


Spheres of Influence; or, The Golden Globes Diaries

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [61]
Category: British Actor RPF, The Night Manager (TV), The Night Manager (TV) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Existing Relationship, F/M, Phone Sex, golden globes, long distance, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9275024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Tom’s long night of celebrating after his victory at the Golden Globes isn’t complete until he talks to his girl at home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> There are two musical Easter eggs. Let me know if you find them.

“Hey!”

“Carmen! Love… I’m sorry, all of your texts. I didn’t get a chance…”

“Baby, it’s okay. It was so late, or was it early, when I sent those. And you were doing a ton of interviews I’m sure.”

“Oh yes. The gauntlet backstage, but there were little bottles of Champagne. It simply flew by. Have you been to bed yet?”

“Just a nap. But I took the day off from work, so I’ll probably go to sleep for real eventually. Are you back at your hotel?”

“Yeah. Just... let me kick this shut. There. Shoes off. Jesus that feels good.”

“Try to change out of your tux before you pass out if you can help it.”

“Perhaps. It is 3 am, not sure I’ve the strength left to manage it on my own.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you kept it on. You looked good. And I’m glad you went with the double-breasted.”

“Thank you, Button.”

“And if I may be catty for a second...”

“If?”

“Hush. It looked better on you than it did on Eddie Redmayne.”

“Carmen.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s a funny little thing. This…”

“Award?”

“Yeah.”

“Your award.”

“My award.”

“Your Golden Globe.”

“My Golden Globe.”

“Baby.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know I’m proud of you?”

“Yes.”

“But what I am feeling now, it’s just…”

“Oh, my love.”

“I didn’t… nobody told me… that feeling you get when someone you love… oh God…”

“Please don’t cry. If you cry, then I’ll cry…”

“As if I give a shit about that.”

“Brat!”

“Whatever. You know you love it.”

“That’s my girl.”

“This feeling, like… this is what you wanted. And now you have it. I know you think you didn’t think you would win. But you did! And it is wonderful, and it’s like… it was all you. You worked so, so hard. You and Susanne and Hugh. Even that imp Tom Hollander who you peed on when he got stung by that goddamn jellyfish.”

“Button!”

“If he’s going to keep dining out on that story, then he has to say ‘Golden Globe winner Tom Hiddleston peed on me when I was stung by a jellyfish.’”

“Eheheheheheheheheheheheh.”

“Even better, I’ll get his wee ass a t-shirt that says exactly that.”

“You will not!”

“He can wear it to the BAFTA TV awards in the spring.”

“Carmen, I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too.”

“If only so you could have written my speech.”

“Baby…”

“I was flustered.”

“I know.”

“And I tried.”

“You were gracious, and brought the attention of tens of millions of people to South Sudan.”

“I sounded like a smug…”

“Hey now…”

“Self-important, self-satisfied…”

“Baby, come on.”

“Privileged arsehole.”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Was your speech perfect? No. Are you perfect? No.”

“I’ll clarify…”

“I know you will. It just sucks that you have to. But I’m glad that you will.”

“Alright.”

“Feel better?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I drank a lot of Champagne tonight.”

“Hungover?”

“Tipsy, more like.”

“I figured. The moping tipped me off.”

“That was not moping!”

“Sounded like moping to me…”

“I’m just tired.”

“Of course. I’ll let you get to bed…”

“What?!”

“What do you mean what? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Precisely. And as a self-important fancy lad who will save the world with ACTING…”

“Hahahahaha!”

“We shall celebrate my achievement and general awesomeness.”

“Dear God…”

“Carmen Paloma DiGregorio, this is not a request but a demand.”

“Yes… Captain.”

“Captain?”

“Mmm.”

“Why did you call me that? In that voice?”

“What voice would that be?”

“The voice that sounds like you’re absolutely gagging for it. Makes a man hard in a millisecond.”

“Oh? I thought only Susanne’s tits could do that.”

“Carmen!”

“You are so busted.”

“No comment.”

“Whatever. I saw her dress tonight. Not the usual Hiddletrap, but not bad.”

“Hiddletrap?”

“Hiddletrap. Noun. Coined 2017 by yours truly to describe the type of evening gown cut to show off ponderously deep cleavage of buxom ladies such as Susanne Bier, Priyanka Chopra…”

“I knew you were still jealous of her.”

“Fuck you. She’s just so obvious.”

“Says the girl who was wearing thigh high stockings and NO KNICKERS the day we met!”

“Asshole, I told you it was laundry day.”

“Focus, Button.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And there you go again.”

“Well, it’s just… you know, safe words.”

“Yes, darling.”

“I say ‘trumpet’ and we stop whatever we are doing with, or rather, _to_ each other.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“What do we say if we want to, you know…”

“Get into a little risky business?”

“You are so obsessed with that movie, Tom.”

“I just can’t believe you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Well, you know I’ve seen the sex scene on the L.”

“As you showed me that one time.”

“You lucky duck.”

“So.. Captain?”

“Yeah.”

“As a way of… damning the torpedoes? Full speed ahead?”

“Sailing into rougher waters. Hmm. What about unleashing Kong?”

“Eheheheheheheheheh.”

“Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.”

“Alright.”

“You’re really alone?”

“Yes. Nobody here but me, and you.”

“But if there was somebody at the door? Who would you want it to be?”

“I think we know the answer to that, Carmen.”

“What if it was me and a friend?”

“No. I only want you.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Not even Susanne in her most Hiddletrappiest dress?”

“Nope.”

“Romantic fucker.”

“That doesn’t sound like the mouth of a lady, Carmen.”

“I suspect it’s not the mouth of a lady that you require, Tom.”

“I should say not.”

“So… it’s me. Just me.”

“Perfect.”

“All alone in your empty house.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

“I know you will.”

“And where shall I find you when I get there?”

“In bed.”

“Eagerly awaiting my arrival?”

“More like eating your leftover spaghetti.”

“Minx!”

“And reading fan fiction.”

“Why?”

“I find it comforting. When you’re not around.”

“Like the blue t-shirt of sex?”

“What else would I be wearing?”

“Are you…?”

“Yes, I’m wearing it now.”

“Just the shirt?”

“Well, no. There was a bit of a chill this morning, so I put on some tights. Shame I could only find these thigh highs.”

“No shame there, Button.”

“It’s just as well, as I am feeling awfully hot all over.”

“Are you in need of relief?”

“Badly.”

“Is the fan fiction of any help?”

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“Mind’s racing. Too many words, too many images of you, fucking all these girls in these stories. Filling my head…”

“Carmen…”

“I see their hips, thighs. Secret positions that we never try.”

“Carmen.”

“What?”

“I want to show you something else.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to…”

“Can you, my darling? Can you picture this?”

“Picture what?”

“It’s morning. Sun’s slowly coming up, and you’re barely awake. You were just out of bed, quick pee then start the shower. It will only be a minute, perhaps two, for the water to get boiling hot like you love. Almost slipping back into unconsciousness, you don’t hear the front door opening. A suitcase being rolled to a spot at the foot of the stairs, shoes being kicked off as soon as I come into the bedroom. I’m just off a fourteen hour flight, and damn it if that shower doesn’t seem like a dream. But there you are, lying on your side, covers thrown over so I can see you in my shirt. See that it’s riding up, baring your arse. The aforementioned stockings are still on, showing me the way to that little bit of heaven on earth nestled between your thighs. Before I can blink, I’m in the bathroom turning off the shower. And now back in the bedroom, getting undressed. The air is cool on my skin, so I shiver with every article of clothing shed. I kneel, a single knee on the mattress, before falling forward at your feet. The movement shifts you, so you’re lying on your back now. Before I can pull the duvet over you, warm you from above as I approach from below, you laugh.”

“Do I? No whimper of anticipation?”

“No, Button. Not yet.”

“In case you hadn’t guessed, I’ve absolutely soaked the sheets.”

“Good. I want them on the bed when I get back.”

“Filthy.”

“Yes.”

“Oh Tom…”

“... is how you greet me as I crawl up the bed. Duvet’s forgotten because I want to see you, see all of you, as I approach. Your plush thighs, soft hips.”

“Oh…”

“I can smell you, can practically taste you, as my lips skim along the tops of your thighs as they part for me.”

“Only skim?”

“For all your charms, of which there are many, I do have some favorites to attend to.”

“Is that right?”

“I seek the feeling of your lips top of my head, then my temple, cheekbones, and my own undeserving mouth.”

“Your sweet lips.”

“But yours are softer. Sweeter. Just as I whisper ‘Good morning’ you kiss me tenderly. And it’s me who whimpers, me who surrenders to your embrace.”

“You’d have to. The bed’s cold without you, love.”

“So we make our own heat. We kiss. For the longest time, we kiss. Between sighs and laughter. Little nips up and down your jaw. Licking just inside your mouth, I can taste you. Your hands just run through my hair, or what’s left of it…”

“No self-pitying talk during phone sex.”

“Yes, Carmen.”

“My fingers play with the curls at the nape of your neck, then run along your jaw. Hold you in place so I can nuzzle you, feel the scratch of your beard against my cheek.”

“You can’t suppress your moans, your pleasure at the sensation.”

“Why would I want to? It feels… you feel too good. You’re too present, too real, too _there_. You are not too good to be true.”

“I’m very lucky.”

“Yes, you are. Caught in my embrace. I hug you tight, press my nose into the crook of your neck and sniff. Cologne, a little soap and the teensiest bit of sweat.”

“Because I was rushing home to you.”

“You taste like coffee, hot and rich with no hint of bitterness. And I have this great thirst now. I need your mouth on mine but you’ve pushed up a bit. Your lips are tantalizingly out of reach, but close enough that I can feel you breathing on my cheek. Your hips swivel, pushing against me so my legs just fall open. I pull you in, dig my nails into your ass…”

“And it’s just what I need to come down to you, inside you. My cock…”

“Your cock…”

“I push into you. The heat of you. The wet of you. And you feel so fucking good. We feel so good like this. Fitting like we do. Fucking like we do.”

“That’s right, baby…”

“I want to be good. I want to be still. Close and quiet. But I can’t help it. I’m greedy and impatient. I need to move again.”

“Yes Tom…”

“I need to thrust. I fuck you, my cock big and hard. I watch your lips move, listen to you curse and breathe and whine and gasp in my ear.”

“You feel so good. You fuck so good.”

“Button, I…”

“Oh Tom, keep going.”

_“Yes.”_

“It’s slow. Torture. But you’re hitting me. Right where it feels… oh, fuck, yes… Just like that. And it’s so good, I don’t want you going away, so I hold on from inside.”

“Fuck! Carmen…”

“But you and your winding, grinding hips. I almost can’t keep up. Arching my back, pushing into you, doing anything I can to keep you on me. Keep you fucking me, faster and harder. So hard, and deep. And then…”

“I grab your thighs, bring your legs up, push in.”

“Oh god…”

“Carmen, yes.”

“Keep going.”

“Touch yourself, baby. I want to see you.”

“Wha…”

“Touch your clit. Finger yourself, darling.”

“Oh god.”

“Do it for me. Do it.”

“I am. Fuuuu…”

“Tell me. Tell me you love it.”

“I love it.”

“You love it when I fuck you like this.”

“Oh yes, yes I do.”

“Tell me. Tell me.”

“Fuck me, Tom. Harder.”

“Yeah…”

“Harder, Tom!”

“Yes!”

“Deeper. Fuck, Tom. Do it!”

“Oh… yes… are you…”

“Yeah… almost…”

“Ah… please, Car, tell me…”

“Almost…”

“Oh… ohh… fuck.”

“Tom…”

“Car…”

“Tom…”

“Car…”

“Tom!”

“Uh!”

“TOM… yes. Oh… yes! Fuck… yes! Oh… oh god… yes…”

“Ugh… oh Carmen… shit. Yesyesyes… FUCK. Oh… oh… oh.”

…

…

…

…

“So…”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m good.”

“Will that…?”

“Hold me? Hold us until I’m home?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so.”

“Alright, Baby.”

“But just in case it doesn’t…”

“Yeah?”

“Facetime when I get up in the morning, say 9am my time.”

“Yes.”

“Lovely.”

“That’s just enough time for me to take another nap… and whip up another pot of spaghetti.”

“Brat.”

“I’ll save you some.”

“Deal.”

“Baby?”

“Yes, Carmen?”

“I love you.”

“Carmen?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you more.”

“Good night, Baby.”

“Good morning, Button.”


End file.
